


Touch

by inkedpenn



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 11:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedpenn/pseuds/inkedpenn
Summary: Roger lets David touch him.He's not quite sure why.





	Touch

Roger lets David touch him.

He's not quite sure why. It's not that he doesn't want this- quite the opposite in fact- but that doesn't change his sudden discomfort at the hands wandering over his body. They're warm and exploratory, quite nice, really; and he is vaguely aware that he should be enjoying this. But even though it's Dave's hands that are touching him, all he can think about is all the other times he's been touched like this.

He remembers Syd. Sweet, crazy Syd. They'd done it before, but as Syd lost his mind more and more, he got rougher, harder, he cared less about whether or not Roger wanted it anymore. Roger was too fragile for him. He still had scars from where Syd had scratched him badly.

He remembers all those executives, all those times when he'd sold his soul, and his body, to keep the band's dreams a reality. He thinks about all those threats, thinks about the careless hands roaming over him and using him for whatever they wanted. It was worth it for the band. It had to be worth it for something.

Suddenly, David's hands are no longer on him. It brings him back to reality, to now, and he sees David looking at him with something close to concern.

"Rog, you're shaking..." he whispers, gently placing one hand on Roger's cheek. Its such a tender gesture, he can't help but closing his eyes and leaning into the innocent touch.

"What's wrong, love?" Roger desperately tries to stop himself from crying, unaware that he's fighting a losing battle. He doesn't understand why he's so upset. Despite his best efforts, he feels a few hot tears streaming down his face, and David softly wipes them away.

"I'm- I'm fine," he chokes out, rather unconvincingly. David's eyebrows furrow at this. He's confused and a little hurt, and doesn't know what he did wrong, or why his friend is crying. He wraps his arms around Roger's trembling body, not knowing how to help. This seems to open the metaphorical floodgates, and suddenly Roger is holding onto him tightly, sobbing into his shoulder.

David doesn't quite know what to do, so he just lets Roger hold him. He doesn't know how long they stay like that, until Roger starts to calm down. He seems tired, even more so than usual. He's still finding it hard to look David in the eyes, opting to instead carefully inspect his feet.

"Rog, you know we have to talk about it."

"Why? I mean... we don't have to, Dave. We could just-"

"Roger. Don't."

"Why don't we just go back to, ya know... what we were doing before?" David sighs. He knew Roger would try to resist actually confronting his emotions, but David could be just as stubborn as him and he wasn't going to let it go.

They'd talked about this before; or rather, Roger had sat and listened passively as David ranted to him about how he couldn't just keep repressing everything. How he had to let David _help him, goddamn it,_ and he was trying, honestly. But decades of building walls had made it hard for them to come down. He wasn't sure he could talk to David about this, even if he wanted to. Which he very definitively did not.

"Please, Roger." He simply shakes his head in response. He still can't look at him properly, and a distinctive hurt starts to form in David's gut.

"Rog, I-I need to know what I did,” he pleads, voice cracking. This causes Roger to finally snap his head up to look at him. His eyes are still wet and red, and fresh tears are beginning to form.

“David, you- Christ, Dave, you didn’t do anything,” his speech is rushed and he starts crying again as he talks. David stares, at him, perplexed, saying nothing. How could he have not done anything? Here Roger was, breaking down in front of him, saying he’s fine, and that David did nothing to cause it.

It’s David’s turn to look away. Roger doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to convince him. He panics, he’s pushed David away and he’d promised himself he was done putting up walls yet here he is, David unable to look at him and its all his fault. He doesn’t think he can breathe and it seems that the room is closing in on him, and he’s terrified and ashamed and hurt all at once, and it’s too much.

He sits, or falls, really; he’s curling into himself right there on the floor and he knows how weak he must look but he can’t move. He squeezes his eyes closed and he thinks he might pass out. Some part of him knows that he needs to calm down, but its not whichever part of him has control right now, so he just remains there on the floor, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Once again, David feels as though he’s missed something. Roger is breaking down again, completely, and he just doesn’t know what’s wrong. He feels absolutely powerless to help him. But his gut tells him that he needs to do something, anything, so he sits down next to Roger and tries. Whispers to him, tries to reassure him, but he doesn’t know how to help Roger if he doesn’t know what it is that’s wrong.

Eventually though, he seems to reach Roger. It seems so simple, yet it’s exactly what he needs.

“I’m here, Rog. I’m here.” Roger turns over soundlessly and shoves himself into David’s arms. It’s not a desperate hug, like earlier, but instead it’s a comforting embrace. A few tears run down his cheeks every so often, but he’s not sobbing anymore. He seems considerably calmer after the contact, so David just holds him closer. He softly runs his fingers through his friend’s hair, toying with it gently.

At some point, he starts to hear Roger’s quiet snores. He still doesn’t understand what was wrong, but he has to accept that for now. He’s going to talk to Roger about it later, but for the night he decides to let Roger sleep. He picks him up carefully, carrying him over to the bed and tucking him in. He brushes a lock of hair out of his face, and softly plants a kiss on his forehead before getting into the bed next to Roger.

He knows Roger can’t hear him anymore, but as he drifts off, he feels compelled to tell him one last thing.

“I love you.”


End file.
